Embers
by Djali is Queen
Summary: A series of oneshots about various characters. Some shonen-ai, slash, some adult content. Harr/OC, Naesala/Reyson
1. Carnivali

The procession was a short and pitiful one and if the townsfolk had been better equipped and more powerful they would have taken the enemy forces in the streets that they paraded themselves down. Of course it was only pitiful for the mayor who was leading the ten great warriors down the road, not for the warriors themselves. Although they look slightly disheveled and maybe a little bit battle worn they carried their heads proudly on their broad, armor clad backs. Their beasts varied from rider to rider, some were deep forest moss green, others a leathery brown; their leader's was a huge creature, with a glossy black pelt and stony grey belly. Upon the first's back was a tall man with wide shoulders lengthened by his armor which gave off a certain radiance under the clouded sky. He had mounted his steed with some elegance but now he held there by some spectacular force, for he seemed to be lounging there, nearly falling off the muscle of his mount. The man's hair was tousled, as though he had just woken, and as the mayor spoke his mouth fell out into a great yawn.

The townsfolk watched this man and his nine minions following along on their wyvern and they hated the enemy more. Their leader was a contemptible fool, not fit for anything but fighting they supposed. Maybe not even that. When they saw sleep fall into his eyes they wondered from their windows, from their hiding places among the small crowd that had congealed to watch the warrior's parade, if he was even a fighter, if all he truly did was yell at others and force them to kill. To them the brown haired rider was a monster and because of that they could hate him more.

Of course, the truth was that the man had managed to take the small town relatively peacefully, only killing those that he knew did not belong to the town and the boisterous swine who had taken residence in the lodge, claiming the town for the Great King Ashnard. The fool was probably the forgotten Captain of a small Daein regiment and took the town with much bloodshed and little real enforcement, choosing to rule the people with fear. When Haar had come into town the people looked upon him as a savior, but, after the public execution of Melsan, the scurrilous tyrant who had taken the town, he had left several men at posts, and claimed that now the town was truly one belonging to the king.

For the first two nights that he had spent there the people seemed hesitant of him, realizing that the only real change was of dictatorship, not idealism, and when reinforcements came to secure the town, taking some of the town's men to work, the town hated him. He had been there a week and only now was the mayor showing him about. Haar could feel the glares of the townsfolk upon his face, see the contempt and hatred in their eyes, but he had seen it all before and he no longer cared. Haar had spent his life fighting and now that he was comfortable he saw no real reason to care. He sought leisure and if fighting was necessary he would not disobey orders, unless something else came along.

It had been decided amongst his troop that they would leave within the week, and Haar was more than happy to hear it. There was someone in the next town that he had wanted to see for a long time. Travel was always tedious, always moving, never time for resting, but his beast was always willing to carry him along and was obedient and loyal enough to stay on the path. They were good friends and one falling asleep would not stop the other from moving on.

But on this day something strange and unexpected happened. As the ten wyvern and their riders were led through town a music was heard, carrying high above the heads of the townsfolk and pricking every ear. It was a wild and lively music that moved the feet and swayed the heart with a bump-diddy-bump, and asked the bird to listen. Haar straightened himself out and leaned over his mount's head, though the creature gave a low growl that startled the mayor into a squeak. Haar listened and heard, somewhere inside the quick beat and the carless tambourine, a slow and restful call that summoned him toward it.

Harr seized the air with his left hand and pointed toward the sound. His beast understood him and, with the beat of a wing, rose off into the air, heading toward the high notes and low undertones that rang through the small cottages and alleyways.

"Do you hear that, friend? I have not heard it in such a long—" The words fell from his mouth as he realized what he was doing. With one quick turn of his head he saw the glimmer of nine small bodies upon nine great backs, and he pulled the wyvern to a halt. Never in his life had he been so rash, so thoughtless. Maybe to some he appeared to be, but there was always something driving him, some forethought that assured him a victory a conquest.

From the air all he could hear was the thrush of air as his friend beat his wings, the music lost to the wind, no longer bewitching and befuddling his mind. Haar leaned back a moment before asking, "What do you think, old friend? Should we have a look?" And the wyvern plummeted back to earth.

Once more the music carried through the streets, but now Haar could hear a frivolous laughter echoing against trees, and a melodious voice carrying across a small lake. The wyvern touched the ground lightly before setting himself down with a great shake. Haar was off the beast in seconds.

Just beyond the reaches of the village another small line was making its way to the next town. Where it had come from did not matter so much that was there. Haar meandered toward it, and, stopping atop the crest of a hill, looked down on it.

Children speckled in bright colors like the sun and moonrise ran around and around a line of no more than six or seven humans and one laguz leopard that was staring at him with enormous round eyes. The humans, all but two men, adorned loose clothing that was covered in small gold trinkets, and they jangled as they moved and danced.

The first two were men, twins from their faces, both with muscled chests exposed to the dull glimmer of sunlight through the clouds. They hopped side by side, their pants like purple moon-dotted blooms exploding from the waist and tied with golden sashes around their hips. When one flung his leg, crooked into the air so did the other, and in perfect synchronization their curved shoes rang out, for there were little bells hooked to their tips. They wore large gold earrings and many chains hung across their bear chests, but the jewelry did not stop their movements. The shaved heads of the brothers sported matching cloth crowns that dangled happily into opposite eyes. The two men laughed and shouted out with the music, their bronze arms wrapped around each other's shoulders.

Next in the line was a beautiful young woman with all encompassing eyes a dazzling shade of purple and a smile that carried the whole carnival in warm orange light. Long tresses fell around her face, swirling brown hair that bunched in the back and was let loose in the front. It did not seem to bother her as she rattled her tambourine and knocked it against one of her curved hips. Instead she laughed when it came into her eyes, and whirled her head around, sending flashes of gold and green and blue and purple through the air, for several chains wrapped around her head, sinking in and out of the brown waves as though a part of it. In the center of her forehead rested one large lavender gem that matched perfectly her eyes that, for several moments at a time, disappeared beneath long curling lashes and glitter and the shadows of her face.

Vibrant and careless the girl's visage moved, every motion so extreme that if she were to frown the whole of creation would weep for her sorrow. Her plump lips looked fresh from a deep kiss and led to a small, round chin, which delved into a long white neck clear of all ornamentation. There was little to cover her chest neigh a delicate silk brazier and a fine, clear linen made of lilac starshine. Each of her forearms held bangles and the left a long string that attached her shoulder to her forefinger where she held her tambourine. Below her navel hung defining harem pants that were loose but showed a clear, clean figure underneath and stopped at her calves. The pants were of the same fabric as her top, but for the gold stripes that ran translucent across her legs. Her feet were free though rings of gold jingled above them and a small band found its home on the smallest toe of her right foot. The girl wiggled her hips back and forth, taunting innocently and kicked her dirty feet in circles around her.

Behind the vivacious beauty was a huge creature that Haar realized was not a human but a laguz in human form. His mouth was spread apart, reaching from one corner of his eye to the other, in a joyous smile as he laughed at the antics of the deity before him. His hair was shorn close to his head but was distinctly green as his long furry ears attested to. They rose just above the crown of his head, one pierced straight through with a miniature golden arrow. He was clean shaven and had a broad face that made an example for the rest of his muscle covered body. Unlike his fellows he wore no jewelry except the earring and a thin, linked chain that was fastened around his neck. A loose purple shirt showed off his strength for the sleeves had been torn off and the collar dipped deep into his chest. Around his thick core a long, tight sash was wound, bright and as liquid golden as the sun, but beneath the softness surely rested a wall of muscle. Every laugh caused his stomach to contract to half its size and the ground seemed to totter beneath him. His legs were covered in simple pants that, like the goddess, stopped at the calf. His feet too were unclad.

Haar watched this man with particular care, knowing that the laguz were enemies of King Ashnard, but all he saw in the rough movements of his clapping hands and tapping feet and the quick flicker of his eyes was adoration for the idol who danced for him.

Fourth from the front was a gangly man with deep black skin and startlingly cerulean eyes that matched perfectly the midday sky. This man was only inches shorter than the green laguz but as thin as a pole. There were perfect muscles under his skin, and he certainly seemed the type who could wield a sword with startling precision, but he too was lounging in the giddiness of his fellows. His face was a series of perfect angles speckled with gold paint, and, although it was so dark, there was a distinctive redness running through it. His hair was a series of black braids embedded with golden leafs. His chest was wide and covered by a small vest that stopped just below his nipples, falling into string and strands of sunlight. Across the small garment were intricate weavings of dessert nights and dawns, tales of lore from lands far away, and each story seemed to spill from between the pearly teeth of the man and the strings of his light brown sitar. The sitar itself was simple, only a wave or two of blue splashing along the body. But the music, the music! All the strings on the sitar melted into one with the jangle of the twin's bells and the jingle of the mystic's tambourine and the green laguz's clapping and one smaller instrument and with the deep enchanting voice of the black man… listening to it there was nothing else in the world but endless sands and deep languid nights, and the romance and misery of desert life, the snakes and beetles…

Directly after the sitar player was a man of average height with a long nose that seemed to come from the flaming tangle where his face should have been. There was also a thin twin-pipe made of small tethered reed protruding from the brilliant orange mess. Atop his mane was a finely woven band of gold vines and in the center a small ruby with fangs that sunk into the raging red thicket. Beneath the mangled head-growth was a skinny body with only natural muscles that were shown for the robe that should have come up to cover his chest had been pushed off of one arm and now drooped along his earthy sash, exposing his flat, bony chest and one of his piping arms, which looked little thicker than a girls. Every breath he drew exposed the bones in his chest with startling reality, for his skin was just as white as ivory. The robe that he adorned was a simple one, faded by time to a light tempered green moss but still lined with a deep, vibrant forest that grew from his hem. The flautist sported one arm filled with gold bangles and the other bore a single twine wristlet with a small stone cradled in place. Upon his feet was a pair of leather sandals held together with little glinting circles of gold, and just above was one singular gold band. The flautist ducked and dogged his head up and down, and when he spun Haar noticed that his into his covered shoulder disappeared a wrapping that ended mid forearm.

Haar let his eyes linger on the bandage for only a moment two, his mind wandering, before he let his gaze fall to the last in the line. Unlike her companions the second woman was not dancing. The woman, who was tall and very beautiful with her straight blond hair hanging down her back and her flashing blue-thunder eyes, was staring straight through Haar, staring deep into his soul. Haar stopped breath as she penetrated; he could not tear his eyes away from her ferocity.

Calling from the others roused her and smile sprang to her rosy lips, and the tenacious blue eyed beauty turned away from him to call back to her friends. She must have told them to go on a little while without her, that she would catch up, for they soon spun back and began their dance again to the southeast. When they started off she gathered up a handful of her glistening red skirt and ran at him, the leopard slinking stealthily at her side.

Unsure of what to do Haar remained standing at the top of the hill. Maybe it was his armor that had caused the woman to glare at him the way she had. From where he stood now it seemed like the mad intensity had left her eyes, but surely his armor was enough for any to hate him. Warriors in these times were undependable and untrustworthy; one was always on guard in times of war. Still, Haar found a ball rattling inside his stomach, thumping about in time to the vagabond musicians.

"Good day, sir!" cried the woman only a few paces from him. She was close enough to him that Haar could see the black coal that she had drawn around her eyes and the mole below her lip. Haar had spent many years not looking at a woman's chest, but as she made her way up he found it very hard not to notice her breasts hopping along with her stride. Haar made an attempt at smiling, but he could feel his lips fail him and fall into a crooked half-smile.

Panting quietly, the woman held her hand on her breast. The leopard seemed unfazed by the short run for his maw stayed shut, but Haar could hear the beast growling lowly. The woman raised her eyes to Haar, pinning him to the spot, holding him tightly there as she inspected him.

"You are not from here," the woman pronounced, her air bristling with energy, "So what is it that you want, hm? You are a warrior, a strong warrior, and your beast loves you," she jabbed one long red finger at the wyvern crouching near the ground, exposing her wrist to the eyes, "But you are not a part of this. What brings you here, warrior?"

"The music," Haar whispered, his eyes half-closed, "It's quite wonderful."

Gold coins chinked on her neck as she shook her head. Gold wound all the way up her neck, band after band, making her neck look longer than it might have been; Haar also realized that she had a chain running from her left ear to her nostril and one small ring through her lip. "'The music is wonderful,' pah! That is not why you have come here."

Trying to smile as he winced, Haar replied, slowly, "I thought that was my reason for coming."

Before he knew what was happening the blond beauty had one of her red talons just in front of his eye patch. "What happened to it?"

Curiosity was swelling in her neon blue eyes, falling over it self and thrashing about like an antsy child. But there was also something else there, something stronger, something watching him steadily from behind the playful mask she had put on. Haar fell to nature and brushed her hand away.

"This is what happens in battle. It is just another casualty."

"Nstk, nystk, you should not lie."

"Where are you from?"

Pouting her lips and narrowing her eyes the woman craned her head, getting a different view of the man and all his silly avoidance. She wanted the truth, but she would allow him to avoid her. "I am from the land where angels fall from abstraction and into fowl play, where there is truth and wonder all around, but eyes are closed to beauty." She lifted her skirt once more, freeing one of her slender legs covered in glimmering bangles, and sat on the back of the laguz. Shock overwhelmed Haar, and then fear ebbed into him, but the leopard did not stir one muscle, continuing to glare at him. "And what of you, stranger," she sang, "you are from…"

"I am from many places. But I hail… I fight under the Daein flag. I have no loyalties to any nation really. It's more for convenience."

"Oh," she smiled, her eyebrow raising with her lips, "And you followed a man here, yes? And his pretty little daughter? Mm, there is much inside of you warrior, I can see it in your—" She paused and dragged her eyes to his patch, before chuckling heavily, "In your eye. She is quite a pretty girl, but so young." Around her finger she had wound an endless gold chain that had somehow become attached to his breast plate, though it was not possible, and as she said the word the laguz move slowly backwards, and the chain extended. Haar's eyes grew and the sun hurt his eyes.

"What manner of sorcery—?"

"Oh-ho!" the woman laughed as she kicked her naked feet in the air, "but you will love her, if not now then someday. No, no, not now, and only if… ah, but there are decisions to make in your future, sweet warrior. You will live through this war, but what of the next, hm? I can see it in that cunning eye of yours. You act so lazy, so tired all the time," she yawned and stretched herself out on the back of the angry laguz, "but there is so much more to you!" she squealed. "Yes, yes there it is! Ah, nothing is more attractive than a man so confused by the world. So vulnerable to fate, so innocent to the world." The temptress pulled the chain and Haar fell forward and, so taken off guard, fell to the ground. She gasped and knelt next to him, taking his hand in hers. "Oh you poor, creature, you sweet thing, you have lived so hard, so long compared to you kin, what ever has… oh, my, dear, sweet, lovely boy, I could not have—"

Minutes of the woman stroking Haar's hand passed, and Haar, befuddled and dazed by the prophetess, could not move. He stayed there on his knees, watching the glimmering ruby nails of the oracle clawing lovingly at his skin. When at last he regained reason he looked into her soft face, noticing the gold flakes around her eyes and the stone pressed into her center, and captured her yes. There was nothing for him to say to her, he had no idea what to say to lunacy, and he could not break away from her beauty, so he stayed there longer, holding her searching eyes captive until at last she broke the silence.

A great, large smile curled unto her lips, and mischief took her lighting eyes. "Oh great warrior, there is so little that I can do for you now. One day you will know, you will know all that I have seen, but it cannot be today, or tomorrow, or even the day after… all I can do is help you now. When, torn warrior, did you last lay with a woman?"

Quickly as his mount an uncharacteristic blush fell across his face and Haar's jaw fell slack. The vixen took a quick look at his hand, pushed the palm up and studied it intensely before smiling into his eyes.

"Oh," she breathed coyly, "And such a fine man as this…" The siren hummed her song slowly and stood up. With his chain still wound around her finger Haar had no choice but to stand with her. She took his hand lightly, and, despite a yelp from the laguz who was once more at her side, the seer pulled Haar along after her.

"A man from the farmlands who has risen up to be one of the—oh, yes!" She turned to him, eyes wide with wonder and childish joy. "I can see you now, such a fine, noble man, but… oh, for truly, you could not know just yet." One delicate finger raised to his lip and to silence the mute, and her smile widened. "You have places to go, Lord Haar, people to meet, to befriend, and even now you are so busy." She stole a glance over his shoulder at the wyvern who was following his friend down the hill loyally. "Even he loves you, the brute! Oh, but you will be great, and my cousins will lead you on, sweet rider, noble leader, and none shall doubt you. Oh!" Her eyes sparked and her finger fell away. "I am Celestine, young Haar, and I shall ever be yours, though never wholly, but you will beg my pardon, yes?"

Harr nodded blindly.

"I thought as much."

When they reached the base of the hill the teller turned back, stroking the spine of her furred companion long enough to sooth it some, and lead Haar toward a hill that had not been there moments ago. This hill was shorter, and thicker, and in the center was a round door with golden embellishments adorning it. It opened noiselessly when she touched the center and Haar followed her in without a sound. The room was dark, her eyes darker, and after a short walk another door opened, and light pooled around them.

"Here, sweet warrior," crooned the lady.

"Where is—?" But he could not finish his sentence. The soothsayer, Celestine, had placed her swollen lips upon his, and sucked the speech out of him once more. There was not a thought in his head, not a dream in his soul, and all that he could see were her omniscient lightening blue eyes.

"Come," she whispered, and he floated along, following her through the liquid light and onto a bed that had been poured from the emptiness above them. The bed was enormous, would have taken up the whole room if there had been one there, but there were no walls, no floors, they were walking through nothing. Celestine laid him down upon the sheets spun of gold, and pressed her hands through his armor and against his chest. She smiled lazily at him and all there was upon his body was his skin.

"Do you love me, Haar?"

"I don't even know you," he lied.

The diviner smiled at him again, and her eyes closed as they fell into another kiss. "Yes," he breathed. For the first time he noticed all of the beautiful clothes that covered her perfect body, the fine linens and silks and satin and what else he could not say, but he saw each and every detail, all of the metal that had been spun into the thread, that gave it its luster, that made the stars in her golden tunic shine and the body of her skirt breath, and all the colors that were a part of her reflected the sun's glare and everything was prefect, everything was beautiful and then she was only herself before him, only her endless sunshine hair and tanned skin and blue, spark eyes and then they were one and the sweet desert music overcame him.

How many hours had passed he did not know, but he awoke with a great crashing storm inside his head. His hands fuddled around his body, groping at his armor as though something would be missing. One of his men was shouting at him, asking him if something was wrong. Nothing was wrong, he replied more gruffly than natural, he just needed to sleep a little bit more. The lackey responded with something about a red hair girl, a rider? Jill was nearby and had done something that only served to intensify his confusion and send the wind thralls into fits inside of him. He tried to breath, tried counting backwards, but the noise was too great, too loud and clamoring, and the sun was so bright… the sun. Haar's eyes peeled open and there before him, perfectly intact, was the sun. She was beaming down at him, taking him and all his glory into her. A smile fumbled across his face. There were good times ahead for the fighter: the prophet had told him so.

Haar pushed himself off the ground, his wyvern growling something at him as he stirred the beast from its slumber. "There's a war going on friend," Haar spoke as clearly as the day as he stretched his body out for the sun, "We've other things to be doing, don't we?" The great best bobbed its head and pulled itself up, flashing its wings out like lightening. Haar smiled and mounted the creature, ready and prepared for all that lie ahead.


	2. Un Oiseau Rebelle

I do not care that Naesala and Leanne can be married in Radiant Dawn. All throughout Path of Radiance I would whisper little things to my brother about how gay Naesala and Reyson were for each other, and I seem to be the only person on this website who thinks that they deserve more than 1000 words. Come on folks! This is benevolence and devilishness pitted against each other after years of blame and tension. Anyway, here is my version (because hey, the marriage is optional. Maybe Leanne just knows they love each other) and I hope you enjoy.

High in the mountains there is a place where the rocks tumble away into faces that leer and haughtily mock passersby who think that they may find safe passage to other lands. It is there in the sheer cliffs of the mountains that the mighty Ravens make their homes and pass their days. These great laguz soar high above the insolent beorc who think themselves a greater species and everyday they laugh and make merry with the customs of the Raven, forgetting that anger and hatred swells beneath their wings. Or so they did. The days of happiness had long since passed and only the war held the history of the Ravens.

Naesala let out a guttural sigh and let his hand sway beneath him. The pressures of war would not have been so great had he not a people to take care of; every action he took, every thought he had must take into account the remaining clan that he had left in the mountains. They were not safe there, the best of their fighters had been taken off into the battlefields to assist the highest bidder, and now many were dead and the few who remained were bitter and tired of the fighting. It was not really in their best interest, his fellows had said, they could hide themselves, keep themselves safe and at a distance. Maybe the dragons… but he would not accept that.

Wind traced his fingers. His hand closed fiercely, grasping for something he could not see, and opened his eyes. He was tired of this war, no matter what his face showed. He wanted to return to his home, to the grand palace of the Ravens and be done with these beorc fools. Yes, they were not all the terrible creatures he had once thought them, but they were far different from his own folk, and what the King of the Ravens wanted more than anything else was familiarity.

"Naesala? What do you want from me? And what are you doing up there?"

With a shove and one flap of his majestic wings the King stood before the Heron. Naesala smiled musingly at the tall blond laguz and gave a curt bow. "It is a pleasure to see you so soon, young Prince."

"Stop this foolishness Naesala," huffed Reyson, "What do you want with me?"

Neasala's eyes fell cold a moment, all of their normal jovial spirit drained by some invisible force, and his chin moved toward the heavens with slow deliberation. His dark, mysterious eye roamed the open sky and a mischievous light played upon his brooding face. For a moment, the King of the Ravens stood meditative beneath the tree, his thoughts lost to nature, but it was only passing; his face fell once more smirking at the young bird and he let out a low chuckle.

"Will you always expect evil from me, Reyson?"

"Evil?" he inquired, "Evil, no, but you have given me little reason to truly trust you."

"I have withdrawn from battle, I have brought you your sister, and even now I contemplate joining you." His eyes pressed shut and he drew one finger to his lips, shaking his head. "No. No, I will join you in you war, Reyson, for there are some things…" Mangled bodies flashed through his mind, torn and tattered, inhuman faces leering at him in the dark just above them, the stench of hundreds of familiar corpses… the King opened his eyes, those black eyes boring into the tender white Heron. Deep inside his mind he could still see everything; daylight could not erase it. The finger fell away. "I understand your suspicion, Reyson, but I am trying to…" A cool interest peeked in the Raven's shadowed eyes and Naesala settled one hand on his hip, leaning against the tree. "Your sister is a lovely girl."

Blood rushed fervently into Reyson's face. The white laguz took an uncharacteristically swift step forward, fear festering in his bright green eyes. "Stay away from her, Naesala."

"I only said she was a lovely girl. She is very beautiful and very smart. And Leanne had a certain something to her, a…" He cast a quick glace at the fair Heron, who was boiling with rage. Naesala's smile widened and he leaned further into the shade of the great elm he had been resting in. "I'm not quite sure what it is, but your sister has a captivating power of me, something that, I'll admit, I've never felt before. When I first saw she was unharmed, Reyson, I was beyond relieved. I knew that if something had happened to her—"

"Stop this!" cried the bird in a fit of passion. "Naesala, you have no business with my sister! You gave us shelter and rescued my sister from those... those creatures, but you have no right to her, no claim to Leanne. I am thankful for your kindness, however selective, but I will not have you—"

Reyson had gone far beyond any measure of mental censor or thought, simply blurting out his pent up rage, so when the tepid King, who he had thought for countless months a heartless mercenary and traitor, yelled above him, "You never would have loved me!" there was nothing to say. Silence was the only response that Reyson could manage, and for a while that is all there was. When, at long last, the silence was shattered, the words that Reyson spoken were only broken, winded whispers.

"What was…"

"You are a fool, Reyson," snickered the King, running one of his long, sharp hands over his brow and crown. "How the Heron's will ever manage to return with you as their leader… though the chances are slim. Who of you is left?" His eyes met the bedazzled lime ones of his counterpart. Naesala pulled away from the tree with a soft grunt and made his way toward the stunned bird.

"When you were young we took you," he waved his hand in circles, "in and raised you, and I will admit I was unsure of what real good we were doing, though I knew of some, but I grew very fond of you and your sister. She was a beautiful girl and you a handsome young boy, and though she was very witty, there was something," the King winced lightly as his hand raised to trace Reyson's curved jaw, his eyes intensely focused, "something about you that I was drawn to. I can't day for sure, but…" Naesala's hand fell back to his side and he turned toward the tree, the opposite waving through the air as he spoke.

"And when I saw you again, I remembered everything that I felt when you were younger, every single detail, but amplified, for you were no longer a hatchling, you were a full grown—" He spun on his heel, eyes ablaze. "I couldn't stand it, Reyson. I thought of you night and day, in battle, as I ate; and when that beorc fool saw you I could see the lust in his eyes, could see the same need in him that I harbored for you, and I thought that maybe, maybe if I could send you away, make sure I never saw you again, made sure that you would hate me even if you escaped from him, I thought then I might be all right, be able to forget everything." Those deep, dark eyes that had burned with fervor began to fade and his hand rose to cover them. A long sigh lost itself in a perverse laugh, and once more the King of the Raven's shook his head. "I was wrong, Reyson. After he had taken you away there were creatures inside my chest, gnawing at what little was left of my heart. I knew that anything that happened to you was my fault, that I would be solely to blame if any harm befell you… but you showed up again." Naesala raised his head, holding it with the regal manner he was entitled to. "I was never happier than when I saw you that day.

"Any promise that I could make to regain your trust, anything I could do for you—I had to, I was possessed, there was nothing I wanted more than your forgiveness. And when I discovered your sister's whereabouts that thought was instantaneous. I've never flown faster, never been more carful more certain. And now—Reyson?"

Had Reyson been another form of man he might have been more open to the idea that someone like the King of Kilvas had done so much for his sake; but Reyson was no fool: he had been tricked before and nothing would lead him down the same path. The Raven King held Reyson's hand tight in his grip, his eyes were pleading, but Reyson pulled away, taking several steps backward, protecting himself.

"Do you think I can be taken twice, Naesala?" the bird asked with incredulous awe. "I have seen this before and I know you, Naesala, and this, this confession, this whatever you will, this is not you."

"You know me?" squawked the Raven. "No, you knew who I was as foolish knave who did not know what ruling was. I am stronger than I was then, Reyson, I am wiser to the world." Naesala's brow furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief. "You think I would lie about _this?_"

"As you said, Naesala, I don't know you; and what little I do know is not well founded. I know you will lie and deceive, but also that you can do good, that there is _something_ inside your frigid soul."

Anguish filled the Raven's chest and he took a stumbling step backward, hitting the tree, his hand grasping at his heart. "So this is what you think of me? If yes, then know this is no lie."

"You have saved my sister and for that I am grateful, but—"

There was a cool wind blowing through the valley where the hellish castle had kept Leanne of the Herons hostage, but neither of the laguz men could feel the brisk air. It had only taken a moment, a fraction of a second, for Naesala to move in front of Reyson and to pull him against his own broad chest, to take the Heron's rosy-pale lips and press them against his own. There was no cold to them; neither night nor day rain nor sun music nor war cry, could have affected the two from where they stood beneath the great elm with its open arms encompassing all the great blue sky. There was only fire, and then the single soul broke into two once more. Reyson pulled away, blushing furiously, his arms tucked across his chest.

"What was…what were you…"

"Do you believe me now?" The voice was once more soft and stern, holding a hidden mockery deep inside it. Naesala wanted to cry out with joy, to shoot off into the air with ecstasy, to rush forward and take the Heron into his arms once more; but he held his face calm, only a subtle smile playing at his lips.

"You shouldn't have done that, Naesala," came the Heron's broken whisper. His tender white hands were trembling at his sides and his light-refracting emerald eyes wide with astonishment. But the King would not let hesitance dissuade his passions. Naesala took a step toward the Heron once more, but instead of kissing him he took Reyson's delicate hand in his own, holding it with determined force while trying not to injure the scare bird.

"I mean every word that I say to you, Reyson. Everything I have done was repentance for all the harm I have caused you. I was selfish, Reyson. I could not handle my feelings and so we were both injured, though you so much greater…" The Raven King pulled Reyson's toward him, resting their intertwined hands upon his skin. Tremors ran up the innocent angel's skin despite his mind's chastising, and he felt himself falling into the ruler's words. "There is nothing in this world I cherish more than you, Reyson. Every light I saw after I had given you up reminded me of you. You haunted my dreams and tore at my soul. Guilt was my reprieve from your unbearable glare, for nothing is worse…

"Please, Reyson," cracked the King's broken voice, "I could no longer bear to lie to you."

With that the king brought their hands to his lips and kissed the pearly white fingers of the Heron Prince, his lips lingering against the warm flesh of the man he loved.

"Naesala… how can I believe…?" The fair bird's voice was one solid line of despairing need: need for forgiveness, for truth, for love… When the Kind opened his swarthy eyes Reyson saw in them a glimmering honesty and openness. He wanted to believe that it was there, in the words that he spoke, in his confession, but he had been betrayed before.

"I love you, Reyson. That is all I believe."

Inside of his chest Reyson could feel his heart flittering about, taking small steps away from his mind, falling under the powerful charms of the Raven. As many before him, sweet words and a kind face were enough to convince him of truths yet to be verified. The King saw his faltering glare, saw the delicate creature's breath catch, saw the way that his hand quivered, and it was then that he knew there was something stirring inside of the youth, something that, if he could harness it, would bind the Heron to him for the rest of their lives. At first he thought that if he pressed him, pushed him forward, tried to see the truth with honest passions he might have his way, but the twitch of a hand sent the beautiful man's eyes to a frantic watch, like a startled rabbit, and he knew this was not the way to win him.

After seeing this Naesala took a step back, turned and took his place beneath the tree, relaxing there in a state or royal tranquility. He laid one leg straight before him and then other bent so that he could place his elbow against it and cradle his heavy crown with one lax fist.

"Sit with me, Reyson. I mean you no harm. As I have said, I never shall again."

There was hesitation in the divine man's eyes but he did give in to the somber smile of the lounging king. Every step he took was slow and wary and when he at last sat it was with his own hands secure in his lap and without touching the brooding king of the Ravens.

"I see no further way to prove to my love to you, Reyson," whispered Naesala. With his eyes closed and his head leaning against the rough bark of the tree he sighed, continuing, "I cannot show you inside my mind so you cannot see that you are all I think of. And if I had to cut out my heart, I surely would to prove myself. If you asked me to fly into the moonlit sky and capture you a running star, I would without hesitation. But those things are all so inconstant. If you never wish to see me again, dear Prince, then all you need do is say the word, I would leave you forever, never to speak to you or your sister again, though my heart would break and I would die…"

With torpid purpose the fallen king opened his eyes and turned his face to his pale counterpart, who, he noticed, held upon his face the small smile as he looked into the king's midnight eyes. A thin and begotten smile worked its way across the mighty bird's lips.

"How many times must I say that I love you, Reyson, before you at last believe I am honest?"

One long talon brushed over the grass at the base of the tree and drew itself up and down Reyson's milk-white hands, tenderly, lovingly. The prince's eyes watched their hands together and felt a piece of his uncertainty swelling as it dissipated into something warmer and lighter. He felt as though the small iron ball that had rattled in his stomach at the mere mention of Naesala was transforming into heat that let off a pacifying energy and flowed steadily through his veins. The noble laguz watched as his own eyes moved up and settled upon the face of the king.

"I believe you, Naesala," the Heron admitted after an elongated silence, "I believe that you have changed, that you… love me. But I don't know if I can… reciprocate that sentiment. I've never thought of another man as… as something to… as something to love."

His eyes held all the innocence in the world. Naesala said, on a wispy breath, "It's all right," and then his lips were once more pressed to his sweet angel's.

This kiss was different from the first. Where that initial kiss had been strong and wild and passionate, this was tender and slow, something that came naturally to both. The first moment passed quickly for the pure healer, but as he closed his eyes and fell into the endearment all time slowed. The two souls once more united and Reyson fell into the kiss, lowering all his defenses against the man he had once sworn to loath all his life.

The Raven raised one hand to Reyson's cheek, turning in to fully meet him. Soon he was on his knees, straddling the virginal being and cradling his smooth face in his hands with fond devotion. Reyson leaned his head back and brought his hands up the black legs of his old friend, settling them upon the Raven's back.

For a long time the two kissed beneath the tree, breathed each other in until, for the first time in many years, they were fully at peace. Naesala settled himself beside the enchanting creature of his dreams, clasping his hand in his own and planting a series of long withheld kisses across its back. Reyson leaned against the taller man, relishing in the beauty of the world and the wondrous feelings that cultivated inside his chest. When one sighed the other did not think a thing of it, knowing that each breath was one of serene ecstasy. Naesala slid his long arms around Reyson's waist, nuzzling against his neck and breathing soft love into his ears.

When at last the two parted, it was with much reluctance and sad contemplation: there was war to be waged and lives to be saved and they knew not if they would ever meet again. With one parting kiss they two went their separate ways, thinking of nothing but love and the promise of the powerful heat brewing within each man's chest. They were in love, and they would be forever more.


End file.
